


Intimidation Tactics

by ameerkatofficial



Category: Glumshoe Gumshoes, glumshoe - Fandom
Genre: Detectives, Gen, Interrogation, Poisoning, Scene Gone Wrong, Tumblr, glumshoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25256578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ameerkatofficial/pseuds/ameerkatofficial
Summary: I promised several years ago that I would write a fanfiction of Tumblr user glumshoe's characters and here I am doing it. Enjoy.





	Intimidation Tactics

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SHIP](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHIP/gifts).



> Hope you like it, Ship!

The case seemed to have everything--murder, drugs, a saucy little affair...all it seemed to miss was a neat little cherry on top. The pieces of the puzzle were coming together, all they needed was a statement, a _word_ even, _something_ to release the floodgates and allow the dynamic duo to move in for the kill. 

Something deep in Samuel's bones told him that the key lied in Argus "Crooked" Crocker. Unfortunately, the man was a _previous acquaintance_ of the young, brilliant MacIntyre, and bias ran as deep as the blood in their past relationship. Still, MacIntyre trusted Samuel with his own life. And the man, no matter how _off his rocker_ he tended to be, had also never been wrong before.

Samuel watched as the flushed MacIntyre made one last plea to his old acquaintance in the chair, dimly amused by how the young man's lashes tended to flutter, giving his inner thoughts away so easily. Alas, the boy would learn in time to conceal himself one day. Let him talk, let him _shine_. 

MacIntyre took in a breath and steadied himself, his brows arched, his chin pulled up. He intended to win the day, and it showed--now if only he could keep his _composure!_

"Argus," the younger dick began, his voice firm. Samuel was impressed, even enthralled. "You're a good guy in a bad situation. Richard Bartleby does not have to control you. Work with us! Help us help you..." But tenderness did creep into his face, as familiarity softened his voice, his stance. _Good cop,_ is what a casual observer would have called this stance, but Samuel knew better. MacIntyre finished his plea, mired in emotion, "...and we can stop a lot of people from getting hurt..."

Samuel saw the look on MacIntyre's face. He wasn't sure if he should feel pity, or _jealousy_ at how soft the young man's face became. A part of him laughed a little inside. He was handsome kid--perhaps he _could_ charm the interrogatees into confessions. But he didn't break, that Samuel was sure of, even as the younger's lower lip jutted out just a hair, he didn't _break._

Argus's face slowly rose, his eyes staring daggers into MacIntyre's. The betrayal was screaming red, as red as the blood on his face, dripping down to his chest that rose harshly up and down as his haggard breath seemed to fill the room. MacIntyre seemed on the verge of faltering as they locked eyes, and Samuel worried he might. But the two thankfully remained silent, standing their ground beneath the dim lights. 

But then Samuel noticed, perhaps just a heartbeat before the younger did, their man's throat bobbing, him reeling back, before his chin shot up and blood spewed out from the man's lips, onto MacIntyre's cheek. The young man stood stone still for some moments, collecting himself beneath closed lids, as he seemed to search for a will to live under his lashes. He came to soon enough, as Argus reeled back for another ejaculation.

 _"Fuck you,"_ he spat, chest rising, falling, faster somehow, his searing eyes close to popping out of his skull with rage. When this man said _"fuck you",_ he meant it with every fiber of his being.

MacIntyre still hung between the inner and outer world, fighting to return and still coming to the likely thought of _"Oh God, it's on my face"._ His wide, hazel eyes opened at last, before narrowing upon the sight of Crooked Crocker. Something didn't add up. 

_"What?"_ the young dick spat back, his composure thrown to the dogs, but his conviction as strong as ever as he shouted at the man, "Nobody hit you! _Why are you bleeding?"_ And indeed, the man was bleeding, bleeding heavily down his chin, his neck, his chest. The crisp white shirt he wore was soaked in scarlet. His breathing became more labored by the second, but of this fact, MacIntyre became distracted as he wiped the blood from his face. "Great," he muttered, "And it's in black and white, so I'm not even sure if _it_ is blood..."

All attention suddenly shifted to the elder detective in the corner, as his low, rumbling tone abruptly entered the room. " _Oh, it's blood alright..._ " he drawled as he focused on the bleeding man, "Argus here is a..." his tongue flicked out, wiping the spatter off his lips in a slow, careful swipe, " _universal_ _receiver..."_

 _"Good God, Sam!"_ MacIntyre cried out, disgust contorting his features, "Do you _need_ to do that? How can you even--"

But MacIntyre was interrupted by a low moan from their man. Argus gave a long, guttural cough, blood foaming out from his mouth, before he fell forward. MacIntyre caught him before he could bash his nose into the ground, and still found the man to be shuddering in his arms. He was feverish!

"Argus, Argus old buddy, please stay with me!" MacIntyre shook the man as he shouted, "Dammit, _what did they do to you?"_

Argus wheezed, scarlet leaking from his mouth, as he turned up to face the young dick, his thin curls matted to his face from the sweat. "Humphrey..." he rasped, "Find Hum-Humphrey...a-and tell Richard I-I-I said..." his breathing suddenly stopped, and yet the hate, the _hate_ was still in his eyes, the pupils like pinpricks now as he lay limp in the detective's arms. But just as MacIntyre was about to pronounce him dead, the man came back with a vengeance, seizing the other by the shirt collar with all the strength he had left in his body, "... _fuck you!"_

MacIntyre watched the man's pupils relax as he fell limp at last, as his face greyed, colored only by the harsh red blood and spittle that ran soupy rivers from the corners of his mouth. MacIntyre curled his hands into the still-warm Argus, his shoulders locked, his jaw stiff. His chin jutted out, as his chest hiccuped, and Samuel at last saw the man crack, just a hairline fracture, the width of the stream a single tear made down MacIntyre's pallid, bloodied cheek.

Samuel sighed a long, deep sigh, recalling what it was like to care for someone. He felt ghosts of his past run through him, making him shudder, before he dared take a step towards the weeping detective. 

"I've called an ambulance," he said, as he laid a hand upon the other's shoulder. "Come, there's nothing else we can do for him, Mac." 

Samuel could feel the young man shaking under his hand like a leaf. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was honestly just a little test drive to see if I can get the feel for a good old-fashioned noir romp again. Let me know if you guys want me to write anything else on the subject ^_^


End file.
